


Promise Fulfilled

by Phynoma



Series: The In-Between [3]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Romance, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Brighthollow, Caed Nua, Dorks in Love, Elves, Erotica, First Time, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Romance, Sex, Shameless Smut, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27263812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phynoma/pseuds/Phynoma
Summary: “Just saying that I might be a bit clumsy,” the Watcher said.“Not that your standards are lower?” Aloth asked.“You are my standard. How could I be satisfied with anyone else?”The aforepromised smut. It's 9500 words o' sex, folks. This series features the under-utilized lovers-to-enemies trope, so get your lovin' now.
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser & Iselmyr & The Watcher, Aloth Corfiser/Male Watcher, Aloth Corfiser/The Watcher
Series: The In-Between [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980169
Kudos: 17





	Promise Fulfilled

**Author's Note:**

> I went from gently wafting curtains (first draft) to porn (second draft) and then dialed it back a little (third draft) and now it's my gift to you (whatever effin' draft this is). Expect some exposition and non-smutty works to break up the sexy ones in this series, but I'm ultimately writing this for my own enjoyment so that means a lot more of this in the future. I'm going to try and keep the really explicit pieces separate, so if it's not your style you can just skip over that (to your peril, but hey, you do you.) Kudos and comments always appreciated!
> 
> Update: I deleted the chapter breaks from this because it's really all one piece, I just felt like it was too long when I first published it...but I've since decided that the breaks were more distracting than helpful. Otherwise, it's unchanged!

_Sixteen years later_

Mirad hummed as he let himself into his room for the evening. He had resolved a dispute with the local landlords that had been brewing for months; it had taken all of the morning and well into the afternoon, but he felt confident it would stick this time. The rest of the day had been spent with visits to the crofters. He had taught one of the local girls how to set snares for the rabbits that had been ravaging her mother’s garden, and the harvest was promising. A successful day for the Lord of Caed Nua. He planned to go hunting on the morrow—vithracks had been bedeviling the northern borders of his land, and he had the uneasy sense that stability had wreaked havoc on his martial skills. It had been ten years since he had fled to the Deadfire with Edér; ten years since the Keep had been destroyed by the God of the Dawn; ten years since he had left his companions once more, each to their own devices, attempting to rebuild the world in Eothas’ wake.

He had spent the first five years wandering. For the first time in decades, he returned to Rauatai, if only to see what his actions had wrought on his homeland. He was relieved to find he had little feeling left for the godsforsaken place. When he finally returned to the Dyrwood, it seemed smaller— simple, provincial—but it was as much home as anywhere. In any case, he felt like the few souls left alive around Caed Nua deserved some stability. They had been under his protection, after all, and even if he had also _technically_ died in Eothas’ destruction of the keep he felt like he owed something to them.

It had taken the next five years to rebuild and reestablish his reputation, but now the land and the people were recovering. He had rebuilt Brighthollow first, making it a sort of inn for the kith seeking sanctuary in the region. Crofters arrived; new settlers, refugees from the Deadfire, escaped orlan slaves. It was a motley group, but he had always attracted that sort of thing. The focus on rebuilding had occupied his mind enough to suppress his usual restlessness. He had started to think—madness that it was—of settling down. At least for a while. Maybe a few decades, if he survived that long.

A lamp was burning in his room when he entered; a warm, familiar greeting, a signal that a maid had come and gone and he wouldn’t be disturbed for the rest of the night. It was still strange to have routines within a place. Mirad was restless by habit, but he was discovering that domesticity had its comforts after all. He hung his jacket over the closet door and began unbuttoning his doublet. There was a creak of a floorboard from the shadows beyond the bed. He didn’t turn.

“Captain Mirad,” came a voice. Not a servant. No one here called him ‘Captain.’

A figure moved into the moonlight, robed, hooded, masked, and bowed slightly. Mirad showed no sign of being startled by the intruder. He finished with his buttons and turned just slightly, inclining his head.

“Grandmaster,” he replied. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening?” He shrugged out of his doublet and hung it before crossing calmly to sit on the bed and remove his boots.

The voice from under the hood was smooth, filled with a quiet confidence that would have raised the hackles on another man. “Would you believe I’ve come simply to see an old friend?” it asked.

“Absolutely not.” Mirad kicked off his boots and then raised his eyebrows at the shadowy figure. “Not dressed like that, you’re not. I hope you didn’t kill anyone to get in here. I’d have to take offense to that.”

“Of course not.” The smooth voice sounded slightly injured. “I’m the head of a secret organization. I _do_ know how to get around without being seen, you know.”

Mirad snorted. “That would be a recent development, then. I hope you’ve at least lost your tails. I don’t want to have to shoot more members of the Leaden Key than I have to.”

The intruder crossed and sat next to Mirad on the bed, appraising him with glittering eyes beneath the hood and mask.

“Who says we’ve not already infiltrated this little keep of yours?” he asked. Mirad rolled his eyes.

“Please. You’ve never been one for melodrama, Aloth. Don’t start now.”

Aloth laughed, pushing back his hood with one slender, gloved hand. He pulled off the mask, his unlined face part amusement, part cold appraisal. His lips quirked again.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think our time together was _rife_ with drama, don’t you?” he asked. His dry, cultured voice had a bite in it that Mirad didn’t remember, a new touch of danger, of passion. He couldn’t help but smile a little at Iselmyr’s influence. Aloth’s eyes flicked to his mouth.

“Something you want to share?” he inquired.

“Just enjoying your audacity,” Mirad said readily, “and it’s source.”

A devious smile spread across Aloth’s face, a look that was alien to the nervous, stoic elf Mirad had met in Gilded Vale so many years ago. It was Mirad’s turn to give his friend an appraising look-over. “I can see why people fear you,” he said.

Aloth smirked again. “Do _you_ fear me, Watcher?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Of course not,” Mirad replied. “No more than I fear anyone, at least. And a great deal less than the landlord I ruled against today. He’d have more reason to stick a knife in my back than you.”

“You presume you’re speaking to your old companion and not an agent of the Key,” Aloth said haughtily. “I wouldn’t be too quick to write off the goddess of justice, Lord Mirad. She has a particularly long memory.”

“That’s a fair warning, and I take it under advisement. But I also rest assured that if you were here to kill me, it would have been done before I’d known you were here,” Mirad said. “Which brings us back to my earlier question: why _are_ you here, Aloth?”

Aloth looked at him for a long moment, fingers tapping on the sapphire handle of his scepter.

“I’ve come to… _cash in_ on a promise I made a long time ago,” he said. Mirad frowned.

“I don’t think you can cash in on a promise you’ve made, you cash in on one someone else makes—” he started to say, but then Aloth leaned forward, grabbed his chin in his long fingers, and kissed him.

Mirad leaned into the kiss without hesitation, as if he’d expected it, which he certainly had not. It was relatively chaste, if lingering, and automatically Mirad _reached_ out and wrapped Aloth’s essence around his hands. Aloth groaned and pulled him closer, though the Watcher doubted he could feel the manipulation of his soul. It thrummed and pulsed under his hands: warm, iridescent, two distinct colors fading in and out of each other, swirling and flickering. Mirad pulled back his mental reach and moved his physical hands down Aloth’s body.

Aloth broke the kiss and looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“Were you… _Watching_ me?” he accused.

“Could you feel it?” Mirad asked.

“I could feel you staring through me,” he replied, affronted. “Really, was it that bad?”

Mirad laid a hand on Aloth’s chest, felt his heartbeat through the layers of black robes.

“Your soul feels powerful,” he answered. Aloth inhaled quickly, surprised. “Stronger. I can feel Iselmyr, like a weft in your weave, but not that distinct…” Mirad struggled for words. “Most people’s souls feel sort of…wispy. Yours feels like a muscle. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Aloth suppressed a shiver. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

Mirad shrugged.

“That you and Iselmyr are working together? You’ve integrated her essence through yours so completely I doubt you could become untangled again.” Mischief lit his eyes. “It also means I doubt you’ll object if I do this—” He ran his hand down Aloth’s chest and stomach and between his legs. The elf’s eyes widened and his jaw tightened, body going tense, but he didn’t push Mirad away, just watched him warily. Mirad watched him just as closely, trying to gauge his reaction. Aloth’s neck flushed and he gave Mirad a dubious and slightly embarrassed glare.

“You read _that_ in my soul?” he asked, going for aloof disdain and sounding sullen instead. Gods, it had taken so little to get under his skin. It always had. Aloth’s fear had always worn a variety of masks: haughtiness, irritation, disgust, nonchalance, politeness. They were all so transparent Mirad didn’t understand how everyone didn’t see through them, or why Aloth always seemed to think they did. 

“Not exactly in your soul,” Mirad conceded. He moved his hand, gentle but firm, over Aloth’s inner thigh and the wizard reflexively lifted his hips against Mirad’s touch. He hissed, squirming but still not pulling away. “I figured, given the unlikeliness of Iselmyr breaking my face on instinct when you’re getting along with her so well, and your reported reason for being here…”

Aloth’s eyes slid halfway shut and he threw his head back, biting his lip to keep from whimpering. “We see each other for…for the first time in ten years and _this_ is your first instinct? It didn’t take you a lot of encouragement, did it?” he said through his teeth. The last of his coolness melted away.

“I guess not, no. Be fair to me, Aloth. When I told you I was happy to wait, it didn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to this day.” He leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Eagerly waiting.”

Aloth opened his eyes and gave Mirad a shrewd, if slightly glazed, look.

“You couldn’t know I’d come back,” he protested weakly. He twisted, making a valiant effort to keep his track of thought as the back of Mirad’s hand brushed against his already-present erection and it gave a leap of gratification.

He inhaled sharply, clinging to what he was trying to say. “ _I_ didn’t know. When we parted in the Deadfire, I half-expected to see you only at the end of the worl…” he cut off with a yelp as Mirad moved his hand directly onto his rising shaft. This was no cautious fumbling but a capture; possessive, unyielding. Aloth stiffened all over. He was trying to retain some impassivity, lips tight and thin against the rising warmth in his groin and his chest and his face.

Mirad chuckled and kissed his unresponsive mouth. “Call it hope, then,” he murmured. He moved his hand firmly over what he could reach of Aloth’s erection through his robes, and the elf gave a strained groan, a shiver running through him. “But it was more than that, and you know it. I knew you’d come back for me because from the second I met you, there was a tie between us. Call it whatever you like. You know I’m not a great believer in fate, but—”

“Please, Watcher, just…be quiet,” Aloth gasped. Then, with a quicker movement than Mirad had expected, Aloth wiggled out of his arms.

Mirad’s heart was hammering in his chest. He met Aloth’s eyes, wide and dark with panic, and he flushed with shame. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this? None of them involved me launching myself on you like an infatuated schoolboy.”

For a moment, Aloth was still; then the corner of his mouth twitched. “That was very bold for being based on a few kisses from a decade ago.”

Mirad’s flush deepened, too embarrassed to notice the change in Aloth’s eyes. He fought back the answer on the tip of his tongue, knowing it would only come out defensive and whiny after his actions: _It was more than a few kisses, and you know it. I haven_ _’t heard from you. You could have been dead._ Instead, he repeated the apology again.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. That was too much to assume, you’re right. I just—”

“Almost _desperate._ I admit, I didn’t expect that from you.”

Mirad was picking at a loose thread on his pants, the tips of his ears bright red. The smile threatening at the corners of Aloth’s mouth slowly curled up his face. He pulled off his gloves with his teeth, glancing over the Watcher. There was a conspicuous bulge in Mirad’s breeches. Aloth cleared his throat delicately.

“Despite your rather impudent manner of testing your hypothesis, you are, ultimately, correct,” he said. “As always, Watcher.” He took Mirad’s hand between his own and guided it back to his lap.

Mirad’s breath hitched. A thick, coiling warmth spread through his limbs and into his brain like honey wine. “Wait. What?”

“I expected a little more discussion first, but we’ve done enough of that in the past, haven’t we?” Aloth shrugged. “And yes, it is what I came for. You just took me by surprise.”

Mirad forced down the urge to ravish him immediately. “Are you sure? Because I don’t actually want to fuck this up. You’re not about to go on some suicide-mission or something, are you?”

“Ha. No, I am not.”

“So you really came here just because we never actually—That’s the only reason. Just to fulfill a promise?”

Aloth was trembling slightly. Mirad couldn’t tell if it was control or the lack of it. He cleared his throat. “Not just that. Though I never said…on Ukaizo, it didn’t seem like the right time, and then…I didn’t want it to seem like the words of a climactic moment…What I’m trying to say, Watcher, is that I am…am very fond of you. I mean to say…um…”

“I love you,” Mirad said, as if simply making an observation, as if the words had been deliberate, and not that they had been caged in his mouth for so long he hadn’t expected them slip free. He froze, but Aloth only gave a short laugh, relaxing. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant,” he said. He brushed Mirad’s hair back and kissed his cheek. “I—”

Mirad turned, caught Aloth’s mouth with his. The wizard made a low groan from his chest. Mirad shuddered at the sound, the vibration in his throat. He scooted around on the bed until Aloth was in his lap, and began moving his hands in earnest over Aloth’s length. The wizard groaned again and leaned back into his arms. He was remarkably quiet; probably not accustomed to being able to express his pleasure, Mirad thought. Aedyr didn’t seem like the type of place to encourage such things. Rauatai, on the other hand…

He moaned aloud as Aloth writhed under his hands. He was rubbing up against Mirad’s erection with his ass—not deliberately at first, but as Mirad grunted and tightened his grip Aloth’s movements became more purposeful. Mirad closed his mouth over the place where Aloth’s neck met his shoulder, not quite biting down, muffling his groans. Gods, if Aloth didn’t come soon, he was going to. He tightened his grip and sped up his hand. It was difficult with Aloth still clothed, and he thought about stopping, asking him to strip. Then he felt the elf take a sharp breath, and then another, too quickly, strangling the air, until he was gasping, still quietly, almost hyperventilating.

Warm elation spread through Mirad’s limbs. He kissed Aloth’s ear. “ _There_ ,” he muttered in satisfaction as Aloth tensed. “Let me feel you. Come for me, love.”

Aloth arched and grabbed Mirad’s leg in a death grip, making a barely audible whine. Mirad wrapped an arm around his chest, tightening around him like a constrictor, wanting to experience every bit of his pleasure, and barely avoided being elbowed in the nose as Aloth threw his arm across his face to muffle his a cry. Mirad clung to him as he shuddered, tense and strained and silent. Then he drew a sudden, deep breath and drooped in Mirad’s arms. The Watcher let him catch his breath for a moment before letting Aloth’s dead weight drive them both backwards onto the bed, still wrapped together. Eventually, Mirad extracted himself and kissed Aloth on the forehead.

“That was a good start,” he said with a grin. Aloth let out a wheezing chuckle, eyes opening to slits.

“ _Start_ ,” he repeated, disbelieving. He rubbed his hand over his face. “ _Mirad._ ” His tone made it a sound like a curse.

The Watcher passed his hand down Aloth’s prone body and Aloth jumped, shuddering at the touch.

“Seems like you’re not as reticent as you act,” Mirad observed as he touched the tented fabric over Aloth’s cock, and Aloth pushed his hand away.

“That’s because you haven’t given me an opportunity to…to _calm down_ yet,” he replied, wincing. The dull flush in his cheeks brightened again. He pressed his hand over his eyes. “I think you interrupted me.”

Mirad bit back a smile. “What were you saying?”

Aloth sighed. “I don’t remember. Something about the last time we saw one another.”

“And you confessed your undying passion for me?”

Mirad was rewarded with a sputtering laugh. “I do _not_ recall using those words.”

“Alright, um…were you talking about before or after you kissed the life out of me and then ran off into the aether?”

Aloth sat up, glaring at him through the semi-darkness. “You’re making this sound very one-sided for someone spent the good part of a year making eyes at me from across a ship, _Captain_.”

“You noticed that?! Why didn’t you—you know what, not the point. I was trying not to scare you off, for all the good it did me.”

“You didn’t scare me off.” Aloth rubbed his neck. “I just had…things to do. You know that. And _you_ kissed me first, if you’d like to remember correctly.”

“True, but—why are we arguing about this?” Mirad sat up and grabbed him around the waist, nearly pulling him over. Aloth yelped in surprise and then kissed him back with something like a sigh. He felt Mirad chuckling against him. The Watcher plucked at Aloth’s robes. “No ulterior motives, Grandmaster?” he murmured against Aloth’s mouth. “You’re really just here for me.”

“None. I told you. I wouldn’t lie to you, Mirad. Well. Again.” Aloth hesitated, like he wanted to say more, then just closed his mouth and blushed all the way down his neck. Mirad longed to follow the path of flushed skin all the way down his body, but he didn’t think Aloth would appreciate him tearing his robes off—they were probably valuable. He’d settle for a striptease.

“Well, in any case, you’d better take these off before they stain,” he suggested, plucking at it. The line didn’t come out nearly as smooth as he had wanted and he could tell he was blushing again, but he’d already started. “Don’t want the Key to think you’re abandoning duty for pleasure.”

Aloth wriggled backwards so he could look Mirad up and down, lips quirking.

“ _You_ are still very clothed,” he retorted. Mirad thought about this a moment and decided that this was, indeed, unfair of him.

He slipped off the bed and stripped, eyes on Aloth’s face, watching him watch. They had been nearly naked in front of each other before—there was little privacy in adventuring parties—but this was different. Deliberate. The heat in Mirad’s brain swirled downward, coalescing in his gut and his groin, hardening his already attentive cock. Aloth twitched involuntarily and winced.

“What was that about calming down?” Mirad teased.

“You’re making it…difficult.” His lips were parted, gaze hungry. It flicked over his semi-nude body and back to his face as if trying not to notice Mirad’s very evident arousal under his linens, the damp lines of sweat and pre-cum on the thin fabric.

“Your turn,” Mirad challenged, tossing his underclothes aside without fanfare. He could see well enough in the dark to see Aloth’s pupils dilate, his breathing jump as he looked Mirad over. The Watcher resisted the impulse to soothe his aching cock with his own hand; it tightened and bobbed under Aloth’s scrutiny as if eager to perform for him. Mirad had to clasp his hands behind his back, giving Aloth what he hoped was a roguish grin and not a desperate one.

Aloth had gone serious again, wide-eyed and thin-lipped. He pushed himself off the bed and tumbled the voluminous robes over his head with less care than Mirad had expected. He emerged tousled-headed, flushing a little under Mirad’s stare. He was wearing Aedyran underclothes beneath the robe, a thin chitoniskos and loincloth. He plucked at the tunic as if suddenly unsure of how to take it off.

“Would you like some assistance?” Mirad offered. Aloth’s flush deepened.

“N-no,” he stammered, and fumbled to remove the remainder of his clothes. Unlike Mirad, he shrank back a little as he kicked the linens away. He hadn’t ever _exposed_ himself like this, to another person. Mirad wasn’t just looking at him, he was devouring him with his eyes, as if he had never seen something so delicious and intoxicating. Aloth didn’t know how Mirad could stand there so comfortably, ruddy with arousal and with his cock radiating his desire. And he had that familiar, devilish expression on his face, as if this was normal. Aloth crossed his arms defensively over his chest to stop from clasping his hands in front of himself. _He wants you. You want him. Nothing to be afraid of._

He shivered as Mirad closed the space between them. Heat radiated off the Rauataian elf’s body like an echo of coastal sunshine. Mirad ran his hands over Aloth’s arms, felt goosebumps rise on his skin. He reached Aloth’s hips and pulled the other man against him with a grunt. Aloth jumped at the unfamiliar rub of another kith’s skin on his, the brush of Mirad’s erect cock, the long line of contact from knee to chest.

“Cold?” Mirad asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Aloth replied in a high voice. Mirad buried his grin in the hollow between the elf’s neck and jaw, and was rewarded by feeling Aloth’s hands pressed against the small of his back and the back of his neck. The wizard’s touch was cautious but insistent. He’d touched him like this when they’d first kissed, all those years ago. Mirad had let him play coy then. He wasn’t going to now.

Aloth whimpered as Mirad’s hands curved over his ass and yanked him closer. “Don’t tell me the great Grandmaster is nervous,” Mirad murmured in his ear, and Aloth suppressed a groan. “Haven’t been practicing with anyone, then?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this not good enough for you?” Aloth’s voice was instantly chill and sarcastic, his hands pausing in their flittering exploration of his back. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit busy, but if the Lord of Caed Nua prefers it, I can order for him a highly recommended whore from the countryside, I’m sure one can be found at this time of night who would be willing to open their legs—”

“Oh, hush,” Mirad stifled his laughter, trying to kiss him, but Aloth turned his head away pointedly. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You did,” Aloth retorted.

“Will it soothe your pride if I tell you I’ve been bereft of intimate company as well?” Mirad tried to kiss him again and Aloth let him this time, though perhaps only because he had been taken by surprise. “Not that there haven’t been opportunities.”

“Not helping,” Aloth said.

“Just saying that I might be a bit clumsy,” Mirad replied.

“Not that your standards are lower?”

“ _You_ are my standard. How could I be satisfied with anyone else?”

Aloth blushed all the way to his hairline. “I’m not certain that makes me feel any better,” he said slowly.

Mirad bit his neck gently and Aloth inhaled through his nose, nails digging into Mirad’s back. His mind went temporarily blank, like a sheet of untouched vellum. He hadn’t known that was possible for him anymore.

“Does that help?” Mirad asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing to kiss along Aloth’s collarbone. He could feel Aloth’s pulse beating wildly in his throat.

“Ah. You… _are_ making it…difficult….to stay annoyed with you,” Aloth admitted between gasps. He shuddered as Mirad’s hair brushed over his skin. “Alright. Alright! You win. Your victory, as always. Of course you could always do whatever you wanted to, I mean, within reason, not that I think you’re irresponsible or that you’d want to do something unreasonable, I—” Oh gods. He was babbling. And it was him, not some rude provincial using his voice. For once he wished Iselmyr would speak up, to save him from himself. She was stubbornly silent, though he had the uncomfortable sense that she was chuckling.

“Is this a competition?” Mirad asked, wrapping his hand through Aloth’s hair and pulling his earlobe into his mouth. Aloth gasped, grateful to be silenced. He felt Mirad’s cock nudging against his like an eager puppy and he squirmed out of Mirad’s embrace and held him at arm’s length.

“Wait,” Aloth requested. Mirad shuddered, surprised at how cold it was without the other man against him.

“No?” he asked, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Just need…a moment…” Aloth panted. He was shaking. Too much attention on him, too visible.

He gave it back to Mirad, carefully running his hand up his arms, feeling his hair stand on end. He ran his hands down, felt the shiver of Mirad’s abdomen, the sharp lines of his hips, the smooth, tight skin of his abs. He felt Mirad’s awareness shift to himself, to the way Aloth was touching him. The ability to distract the Watcher so easily was a powerful aphrodisiac. Heat spiraled lazily through his veins like a hawk on a thermal; rising, graceful. It wasn’t just the way that Mirad’s gaze had turned inward, glazed and sharp at the same time. Somehow, he hadn’t ever thought about what Mirad would feel like. He’d longed and lusted, yes, but in an amorphous way. He hadn’t let himself picture details.

The bolder Mirad had been with his affection—the moments he’d lost his discretion in front of their companions or had sought him out ostensibly to ask his opinion but really just to stand close enough that Aloth wouldn’t resist taking his hand—had been more than enough reason to push him away. Not because he didn’t want it, or didn’t trust him, or—as he knew the others had thought—was shy.

On the contrary, it had frightened him because he was already drowning in Mirad and taking the next step with him meant making the conscious decision to gulp water into his lungs. It meant not coming up again. And, like he’d told Mirad at the time, he’d had work to do. That hadn’t changed, either, but he was as tired waiting for himself as he was sure Mirad was of waiting for him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Mirad’s heart was beating so hard and fast Aloth’s could feel it through his fingertips as he grazed his hand over his chest. “Just questioning some of my more masochistic tendencies.”

The thin skin between Mirad’s collarbones flushed as he gave a huff of laughter. “Such as?”

“My apparent need to fight myself for years over things I could have made peace with instead.”

“Like…” he was going to say ‘us,’ “this?”

“Like this.”

The Watcher had mole under his left clavicle and a few stray hairs on the slope of his abdomen. Aloth touched them, curious, and smiled to himself when Mirad shivered. He moved his attention to the way Mirad’s skin stretched over his lower ribs, the pattern of light and dark where scar tissue had built up over the years from too many long days in armor.

“Please,” Mirad breathed. He jerked as Aloth ran his fingers over a thick, roping scar on his side, a little newer than the others. It was smoother than the rest of his skin, puckered with the memory of the thread that had held it closed.

“I remember that,” Aloth murmured, as if they were simply reminiscing about old battles. Mirad swallowed hard.

“Aloth.” A ghost of a smile flicked over Aloth’s face before he was all innocent exploration again. He rubbed a thumb down Mirad’s thigh and the other man drew an impatient breath. Aloth was a little surprised by how dark Mirad’s hair was there and around his groin, darker than the hair on his head, almost black. It made the soft, untouched-by-sun insides of his legs pale in comparison. He ran his fingers over it, carefully avoiding what he knew Mirad wanted, delighted by this minuscule power.

“Please,” Mirad begged again, trembling.

“What, this?” Aloth inquired politely, finally running his palm over Mirad’s erection. The Watcher made a soft mew of need and then smashed his mouth against Aloth’s, tongue dancing against his like a rapier point. Aloth tightened his hand, stroking, and Mirad gasped as his knees went weak and his sudden dead weight almost knocked them both over. Aloth barely caught himself on the bedpost.

“Already?” he asked incredulously. He’d only had to touch him, and Mirad had—he checked—well, he’d _almost_ come.

Mirad managed a sheepish chuckle. “I told you, I’ve been waiting a long time.”

Aloth rolled his eyes and pushed Mirad away, automatically reaching to flatten his robes before he remembered he wasn’t wearing any. He caught the Watcher’s smirk before he could pretend not to notice and scowled at him, which only made Mirad laugh out loud. Aloth bit on a retort and pushed Mirad onto the bed, not really annoyed but feeling like he needed to wipe the laughter off Mirad’s face anyway.

He sank onto his knees in front of him, eyes never leaving Mirad’s, watching the realization and then astonishment and then desire play over his face. Aloth was about to make a self-deprecating remark, to warn Mirad not to expect much, but then shook his head again and leaned forward to kiss the plane of his stomach. Mirad drew in a long, shaky breath.

“You’re teasing me,” he protested weakly.

“I’m not,” Aloth murmured, and as if to prove his point, took Mirad’s erection into his mouth. Mirad made a yip of distress, almost sliding off the edge of the bed. He rested one hand on Aloth’s head to steady himself and saw Aloth’s eyes flick up to his, dark with arousal. Whatever restraint Mirad had left was immediately overcome. He grabbed a fistful of Aloth’s hair, not hearing his squawk of protest, and just barely prevented himself from thrusting himself down the wizard’s throat. Aloth’s free hand wrapped over his knee for support.

For some reason, that non-erogenous touch was all that it took to send Mirad spiraling over the edge. When he opened his eyes again he was on his back once more, breathing heavily and blinking the stars from his vision. Aloth crawled up beside him. He was rubbing his head, but there was a feline smugness on his face. He grabbed a cup off of Mirad’s nightstand and spat into it before turning back to him.

“That took less than I anticipated,” he commented dryly. Mirad managed a weak grin.

“I’ll make you work for it next time,” he promised. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nothing serious.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll put that under a ‘calculated risk’ for the future.” Aloth’s mouth flickered in a smile, which he hid as he wiped his mouth with his arm. “Ready to go again?”

Mirad huffed in laughter and rolled over, pinning Aloth under him as he did so.

“You thought you were joking,” he said. Aloth’s pupils widened in trepidation.

“Not at all,” he said unconvincingly.

Mirad chuckled and kissed him deeply, taking in his taste mingled with the warm salt of the Watcher’s own body. Aloth resisted for a moment, seeming taken aback by Mirad’s eagerness, but then rolled his eyes and relaxed into a familiar expression of _fine, do whatever disgusting thing you want._

“Where are you staying?” Mirad asked, sitting back just enough to make conversation easier but not to let Aloth sit up.

“Nearby.”

“Camping?”

“There are inns between here and Defiance Bay, as you should know.”

“Not any within a day’s journey of here, unless some enterprising innkeeper has put one up overnight.”

“I travel quickly on my own.”

“Hmm.” Mirad nipped at his jaw. “You’re doing the thing.”

“I…what thing?”

“Answering my questions with statements that don’t actually say anything about yourself, so you’re not technically lying but you’re not telling me anything, either.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know I’m right. I just don’t know what you feel the need to hide.” He snorted at the sudden smoothness of Aloth’s face. “In any case, I’m going to ask you to stay the night.”

“Alright,” Aloth agreed, and Mirad grinned. “I wasn’t about to refuse you, Watcher.”

“Glad to hear it.” He ran his fingernails down Aloth’s side, and the wizard shuddered and gave him a wide-eyed look. “You have a few more scars.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Which one?”

“Here.” He ran his finger over a line of raised, white bumps.

“Skuldrak bite. Came up behind me as I was finishing off its mate. Caught me by surprise.”

“And here?” Mirad touched a short line. It had healed red, as if an infection still burned within it.

“Same beast. Venomous claws. Barely nicked me, but that was what nearly sent me into the ground.” He smiled crookedly, searching Mirad’s face. “And you?”

“A few.” Mirad threw his hair over one shoulder, revealing a long, jagged line down his neck under his ear. Aloth hissed sympathetically. “Rauatai may not have to worry about Ondra’s Mortar anymore, but it’s still full of dangers. This one was…um…” he hesitated, and Aloth realized that he was about to lie. He raised an eyebrow in peremptory skepticism and Mirad chuckled self-deprecatingly. “…was not paying attention to where the boom was swinging and almost getting my head swept off. Just swept me off the ship, instead,” he admitted.

Aloth stared at him for a moment, and then laughed so suddenly and loudly that Mirad couldn’t tell if it was him or Iselmyr. “Excuse me,” he choked, covering his mouth.

“Yeah, wasn’t my proudest moment,” Mirad shook his hair back over the scar.

“I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re in one piece,” Aloth managed seriously before dissolving into laughter again. “What do you normally tell people?”

“Honestly, most people don’t ask. I tried telling someone it was a kraken once and they wanted _details._ Now I mostly just glare and they don't ask." He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw in a parody of himself. With the lamplight and the scars on his face it was actually a little alarming, but Aloth wasn’t going to tell him that. He patted his hand.

“Very threatening, Watcher.”

“It usually works,” Mirad shrugged and winked, his usual rakish expression returning. “Kith are better at making up their own tales than anything I could tell them, anyway. You should know: it’s practically your trade.”

A familiar, sly look stole over Aloth’s face. “Aye, sure. So long as they’re fancyin tales tha’ we’ve already told ‘em.”

“Hello, Iselmyr.”

“Watcher.”

“If you two are done…” Aloth pursed his lips, annoyed. Mirad leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“Didn’t mean to talk over you, love.”

“Hm,” Aloth replied doubtfully, but then Mirad kept kissing him, and he let out a softer hum. When Mirad started to move away, Aloth groaned and wrapped his arms around him, keeping him there. Mirad felt all the hair rise on his back. He was suddenly very aroused again.

He ground his hips against Aloth’s, the shock of being able to touch him like this increasing his arousal ten-fold. It wasn’t long before he felt the pressure of Aloth hardening against him in response. The room seemed to warm several degrees. Ignoring Aloth’s protests, he ducked out of his arms and began to move down his body, kissing and sucking as he went. He could see Aloth’s pulse beating wildly in his stomach as he lowered his head to bite at the point of his hip. Aloth gasped and clutched at him.

“Alright, just don’t take things too far—Watcher!”

“Mm?”

Aloth was smiling slyly again, but the expression was all his. “I have… _objectives_ for this evening.”

Mirad’s eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean?”

Aloth leaned back with his arms behind his head, more relaxed and comfortable than Mirad had seen him in years, if slightly flushed. He said his request slowly, as if he couldn’t believe the words were coming from his mouth. “Stop before I come.”

“Alright,” Mirad shook his head wonderingly. He wanted to ask what had gotten into him, but was afraid that too much attention would make Aloth pull back. And if the elf was going to be uncharacteristically immodest, he had every reason to enjoy it while it lasted.

He slid down the bed between Aloth’s legs, nipping at his skin when he felt Aloth wasn’t paying close enough attention. Aloth inhaled sharply every time Mirad lowered his mouth, tensing as he reached level with his cock. He hadn’t quite recovered but he was dripping with precum. It shouldn’t have been as entrancing as it was. Mirad ran his tongue up the crease between thigh and groin and Aloth hummed again, desperation and pleasure.

He was sure Aloth would push him away before he’d stoop to begging, so he didn’t tease him for long before taking the head of his cock between his lips. Aloth’s shaft surged in his mouth and he licked around the head, coaxing it back to rigidity. He tasted of sweat and salt and something indefinably _him._ Better than his taste was the way he whimpered as Mirad sucked his length into his mouth, the spasm of his legs under Mirad’s hands as pleasure tugged his whole awareness to the things Mirad was doing to him.

“Oh, gods,” Aloth groaned, reaching over his head to brace himself against the headboard. He was good at concentrating through distractions. He had had to be. Now, he set his awareness like an alarm to stop himself from letting go completely, before giving in to the white heat of Mirad’s tongue on his body. He didn’t know if Mirad was good at this in any objective sense, but he was skillfully manipulating him closer and closer to orgasm without tipping him over the edge.

Every time he thought he was so close he was about to speak up and tell Mirad to stop, the Watcher would let his teeth drag just a little over the head of his cock or he would take Aloth’s whole length suddenly in his mouth and the change of sensation kept him from settling into the rhythm he needed. Even still, he was circling higher and higher, closer and closer, until his inhales were harried and shallow.

Mirad pulled away abruptly and Aloth sat straight up in surprise and loss, a strangled cry on his lips. Mirad swept his arms around him and pushed him back into the bed.

“What do you want?” he breathed, leaning on Aloth’s chest so that their faces were mere inches apart.

“Come in me,” Aloth said before his mind caught up with his mouth. His eyes widened. “I mean. Ah, if…if that’s something that you’d find enjoyable, I, um…” he cleared his throat, wincing but not breaking eye contact. Mirad grinned and then kissed him, slowly, crumbling his defenses. The wizard whimpered against his mouth and Mirad groaned, wanting nothing more than to sink into his body.

“I’m not sure we’re ready for that yet,” he murmured, reaching down anyway to cup his ass with one hand. Aloth lifted against him to give him access, whole body trembling, heart pounding so that Mirad could feel it in his own chest. Mirad looked into his eyes, expecting to see anxiety and finding only lust instead. The Watcher bit his lip but was unable to stop himself from emitting a low groan. “Magran’s fire, Aloth.”

Aloth wrapped one leg over Mirad’s waist and Mirad dragged his thumb from the base of Aloth’s cock and between his legs, pressing gently against his entrance. A shiver ran up Aloth’s body and he made a muffled mewling noise.

“You’ve never…here…?” Mirad confirmed, running his thumb over the tight muscle. Aloth’s eyes rolled back and he spluttered for a moment before answering.

“N-no. Not…no.”

“Alright. Give me one minute.” Mirad sat back on his haunches, carefully lowering Aloth’s legs back to the bed before sliding off and dashing to his dresser. After a moment, Aloth pushed himself up, curious. The Watcher didn’t notice him slip out of the bed as well, rifling through his discarded robes before returning to sit cross-legged. He held up a small bottle and cleared his throat.

“Hm?” Mirad turned around as Aloth gave the vial a shake, a knowing smirk playing around his mouth. Mirad’s brows nearly disappeared into his hairline. He clambered back onto the bed, took the proffered bottle and pulled out the stopper.

“You really did just come here to fuck,” he said in wonderment, sniffing it.

Aloth’s self-satisfied expression dimmed slightly and he rubbed his temple. “Well, that’s a crude way of putting it.”

“Sorry. Um. Make love?”

“I told you had objectives.”

Mirad poured a generous amount of almond-smelling oil into his hand, rubbing it between his fingers with a gleeful expression. “Want to get on your hands and knees for me?” he suggested.

“Ah. I. Um. Very well.” Aloth’s ears went pink. Slowly, still blushing, he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.

“You might want to get on your forearms,” Mirad said, tapping his elbow. Aloth scowled at him.

“This would be a lot easier on my pride if you weren’t having so much fun at my expense,” he said.

“Fun? Yes. At your expense? Hardly. This was your idea, remember?” Mirad ran his oil-less hand over Aloth’s back and the other man shivered at his touch. “How did you think this was going to happen? Don’t tell me you didn’t go over every moment of this in excruciating detail before you showed up.”

“It’s hard to fantasize when someone is watching your mind,” Aloth replied, closing his eyes as Mirad continued to run feather-light touches over his back. Mirad’s mouth twisted, unsure if he should address Iselmyr’s participation in their activities or not.

“And this is different?” he asked hesitantly. Aloth gave a slightly breathless huff of laughter.

“Given her attempts to throw me at various kith over the years, she’s hardly opposed to carnal relations. But she gets rather in the way of _imagining_ things too clearly. She likes to make…suggestions. But you’re doing very well at keeping me from thinking— _ah_.” He tensed as Mirad slipped his oiled fingers between his thighs. Heat rolled down Mirad’s chest and gut and gathered behind his cock. He circled his index finger over Aloth’s entrance, teasing, gentle. When he thought Aloth was lubricated enough he rested his other hand on the man’s lower back for steadiness and then slid his finger in, drawing in a sharp breath of his own as Aloth spasmed around him. Aloth made another soft, involuntary mewl and then took a long, shaking breath.

“Alright?” Mirad asked, feeling lightheaded himself. His heart thudded high in his chest. He shifted a little to get a better angle and Aloth groaned. Mirad pushed his finger in a little deeper, stroking, reveling in the velvet of his insides, searching for and then finding a place a little thicker than the rest and massaging it. Aloth choked out a cry, arms shaking until he gave in and dropped to his forearms.

“Oh,” he said in a tiny voice. Mirad chuckled, shoulders drooping in relief. He hadn’t realized he was nervous until then. He didn’t stop kneading the same spot inside Aloth, and the elf bit his arm to muffle his groans. Though his hands were clenched over each other and he was shaking with strain, he kept perfectly still for Mirad to explore. Mirad couldn’t help but imagine taking him fully, of holding his waist steady while he penetrated him, of the sounds he’d make…

He realized he had increased his speed only when Aloth twisted under his hand, high, helpless cries exiting him with every exhale. He slowed again and Aloth convulsed, whimpering into his arm.

“Fuck,” Mirad heard him breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Still alright?” Mirad asked, breathing heavily. Gods be damned, he hadn’t actually even entered him with his cock yet and he was sweating. Aloth whimpered again and Mirad hissed as his erection bobbed, rock-solid and aching.

“I…I…” Aloth was having a hard time forming words. He couldn’t explain it: the way Mirad was touching him, the way he felt open and vulnerable and powerless and somehow more in control than he’d ever been in his life. It scared him. He didn’t want it to stop. “Don’t stop.” _Please._ “Don’t stop.” He couldn’t tell what he was saying out loud and what he was thinking; his mind was jumbled, body aching and weak. “Watcher. Mirad.”

Mirad shivered as Aloth repeated his name, mumbling into the bedspread. He removed his finger just long enough to apply more oil to his hand and then pushed two fingers into him at once. Aloth groaned and tensed. Mirad rubbed his back with his other hand, not moving his fingers until Aloth relaxed again. The wizard trembled from the shock of pain, of entrance, of pressure and discomfort and need. He moved automatically against Mirad’s hand, wanting to ease the feeling. Mirad reached his free hand around and stroked his cock where it hung half-mast. Aloth hissed, leaning back against the Watcher’s hand again.

“More,” he demanded in a moan.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mirad protested. Aloth growled with impatience. “I’m serious, Aloth. I want to…to take my time with you.”

“The lad’s had plenty o’ time to prepare hisself if he had the inclination, no sense deprivin’ yer lardship of pleasure fer his sake.” Aloth jerked forward, shaking his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. “Ahhh. Far be it from me to agree with the wench, Mirad, but…”

“I’ll take your opinions under consideration.” Mirad kissed the sharp angle of his hip and pushed a third finger gently into him, loosening, preparing. Aloth made a sound like a muffled sob and buried his face back in his arms. “But unless Iselmyr has some experience she’d like to tell us about, I’m going to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

He continued steadily, too gentle, just giving Aloth enough to keep him on edge and squirming. He switched back to one finger, stroking him until was making the high, mewling sound again. His whole body was shaking now, on a razor’s edge between over-stimulation and stubborn, long-suffering neediness. Despite the elf’s remarkable resolve, Mirad could sense his endurance flagging. He patted his hip.

“It’s alright if you’re tired,” he said. “This is a lot to take in at once. We can continue later.” Aloth turned his head, too exhausted to actually look back at him, eyes glassy but brows furrowing in determination.

“No, no, I…you have to…” he struggled. He lifted his head slightly, a line of drool from his mouth to the bed, charmingly unselfconscious for once.

“I know, objectives.” Despite his protests, Mirad was as hot and impatient as he. He caressed his own cock out of Aloth’s sight, easing it to fullness again without difficulty. When he could barely repress his own moans he shifted onto his knees. Aloth twitched when he pulled out his finger and went back to rimming him with this thumb. With this other hand he fumbled open the bottle of oil again and lubed himself up. “Are you sure?” he asked, sounding more doubtful than he felt.

“Mmn. Yes. I want—” Aloth’s mumbles broke off in a sudden, shocked breath as Mirad pressed the head of his cock against his still-tight opening. He made a sort of high whimper as the head of Mirad’s cock went from pushing against him to pushing _inside_ of him, another lance of pain at the unfamiliar breach. It was so much more than he’d realized, more than he’d thought to imagine. For a panicked second he thought Mirad had been right and he wasn’t ready, but for the desire; hot, thick, persistent, curling through his belly and tugging at his cock, not enough, not enough.

“ _Please,_ ” he begged, the word drawn out from between clenched teeth. His insides were twisting and sweat was slick down his back, but he was paralyzed, waiting, a helpless supplicant. Mirad balanced himself with his hands on Aloth’s hips and leaned in, penetrating another tiny span before he stopped again. Aloth nearly screamed in frustration. It _did_ hurt, gods, but he needed it more than he cared about pain or consequences. His carefully structured inner world was folding around him, fixated on Mirad’s skin on his, sweat burning, hands tight and possessive.

With a muffled grunt Mirad penetrated deeper. Aloth’s vision went white, blinking around the edges. He heard Mirad choke back a cry and then let out a deep, growling sound that sent tremors through his near-prone body. Mirad pulled back, not disengaging before plunging back in, still slow, deeper than before, and Aloth bit his lip hard to keep back a wail. It was nearly unbearable, this level of sensation, the raw intimacy of it. The alarm he had set in his mind shattered. He wasn’t close to coming, too beaten and buffeted and overwhelmed by the gale of new experience, but he didn’t want it to stop.

Mirad tried to set up a rhythm, increasing his speed by increments, but he had been right; Aloth wasn’t completely ready for that kind of fucking, too tight around him. Not that it wasn’t _good_. He rubbed Aloth’s hips and when the man whimpered and moved against him heat pulsed through Mirad’s member. He drew back reluctantly.

Aloth gasped in pain and disappointment as Mirad withdrew from him, but he was too far past speech to complain in words.

“Turn over,” Mirad said in a hoarse voice and Aloth did, blinking furiously up at him as if he had just woken and found himself staring into the sun. He looked utterly debauched, hair a tangled mess, spit drying on the side of his mouth, flushed pink from having his face pressed into his arms. Mirad hefted his legs around his waist and entered him again, quick enough that Aloth arched against him, a line of pain and surprise pulling his face tight. His eyes closed and another spasm of pain slashed across his mouth.

“Alright?” Mirad asked. Aloth opened and closed his mouth a few times but no words came. Mirad shifted back on his heels, starting to pull out, worried he’d actually harmed him, but then Aloth made a sort of gulping shout of “No!” and reached for him. The Watcher leaned forward instead of back, rewarded by a helpless shudder and moan and Aloth’s legs tightening around his waist. Aloth managed to capture a lock of Mirad’s hair in his fingers and yanked him forward, nearly bending his own body in half.

“I like seeing you like this,” Mirad told him, and Aloth opened dazed eyes, focusing on his face with difficulty. His lips moved in a not-quite-there-response. Mirad brushed his hand over Aloth’s chest and the wizard made a soft little sob, chasing his fingers with his own.

“Did I hurt you?” Mirad asked. Aloth shook his head, still incapable of speech. “Good. That’s good. Do you want—”

“Oh, come _on,_ ” Aloth whined, pushing on his shoulders. Mirad chortled in delighted surprise. He kissed his chin and then sat up again, moving his hips experimentally.

“Fuck, like that, hnn.” Aloth’s head tilted back, baring the long, white line of his neck. A wave of weakness passed over Mirad. He wasn’t sure if it was the view or the unexpected dirty talk. Pressing his luck, he tightened his grip around Aloth’s hips and began moving against him in earnest, waiting until he was nearly writhing again before saying, slightly breathless, “Are you sure you don’t want to stop?”

“No, don’t stop, ye feckin’ bampot. Fe-fucking give it to me; oh gods, oh—”

Mirad didn’t try to hold back his groans. The heat of Aloth’s body, the softness, the spasm of his muscles around Mirad, not to mention the knowledge that it was _him_ : it was maddening, too much. Aloth was still too new to this and Mirad was too concerned about hurting him to really let himself go, but even trying to be gentle Mirad was about to come. It was too soon. He needed to slow down.

Just when he was about to warn Aloth this, the elf shifted underneath him. The overbearing tightness relaxed, and Mirad was completely engulfed in him, bodies wrapped and fitted. He was vaguely aware of digging his nails into the tender flesh of Aloth’s waist and Aloth reaching over his head again to cling to the headboard, his babbling rising and smoothing into wordless keening. Mirad was pounding into him and Aloth was making that delectable, gasping cry, his spine arching, and then Mirad pitched forward over Aloth’s body as he came, gods, he came, heat and the shatter of release and the deep pulse of his and Aloth’s heartbeats echoing through their bodies.

“Oh. Fuck,” Mirad gasped as he blinked the stars from his vision. He pulled out, trembling, and rolled to Aloth’s side. Aloth was making a half-sobbing, half-laughing sound, writhing. With the last vestige of strength in his body, Mirad pulled his lover to face him and closed his hand around Aloth’s erection. The wizard wrapped his fingers through Mirad’s hair with the desperation of a drowning man clinging to a raft and thrust into Mirad’s hand. He closed his eyes and then, as if that weren’t enough, buried his face in Mirad’s shoulder.

“Come on, then,” Mirad encouraged, as Aloth trembled and jerked in his arms. “One more time.”

He felt the steady climb of Aloth’s orgasm, felt the breath quicken on his neck until it finally caught on a single, exquisite cry and then, in concentrated silence, Aloth came with such force that he threw himself back against the bed. He made the half-sob, half-laughing sound again as Mirad drooped against him. He felt Aloth’s breaths settle from gasps to wheezing to slow and sleepy, broken by the occasional post-coital shudder.

“Oh.” Aloth said eventually, wonderment and pleasure and shock in the single syllable. He sighed, opened his mouth to say something else, but again just said, “Oh.”

“That was…you were…” Beautiful. Amazing. Mind-shattering. No, it was more. “I missed you.”

Aloth gave a shaky laugh. “I…missed you, too.”

“Any other objectives I should know about?”

“I think that’s enough for one night.” Aloth stretched and winced. “I should clean up.”

“Right.”

Mirad passed out the instant he returned to bed. Aloth took a little longer, taking his time washing the sweat and cum from his body, then sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the Watcher. Mirad’s eyelashes fluttered in his sleep, his mouth a gentle moue. Even the scars decorating his face seemed to relax in slumber. Aloth fell asleep tracing them.

Mirad woke disoriented after only a handful of hours and froze at the unfamiliar presence in his bed. It took a moment to remember, and then he felt very awake all of a sudden. There was a solid six inch space between them, like an odd, unconscious attempt at decorum. Mirad smiled to himself and leaned over to kiss Aloth on the cheek.

The wizard stirred slightly, squirming closer and wrapping himself into Mirad’s arms. He didn’t say anything as he pressed himself to the Watcher’s skin, reaching back to find Mirad’s hand and pulling it around him like a blanket. The Watcher grunted, wiggling back to try and make a little space between their bodies, very conscious of his state of arousal (gods, _again?_ ) and not wanting to ruin the sleepy embrace. That was, until Aloth looked over his shoulder at him, eyes bright and very awake.

They took it slower this time, lingering over every touch, kisses deep and demanding. The exhaustion of their previous excursions kept them from anything too intense, but there was plenty of exploration to be had. They whispered conversation, reweaving their stories together, until eventually words fell away. Overwhelmed by two decades’ worth of suppressed longing, they pressed their bodies together until they were breathless. Delirious with the intoxication of each other, they fell asleep entangled in each others’ limbs.


End file.
